


Inarticulate

by vertual



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Holmes and Relationships, Sherlock is a bit distracted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertual/pseuds/vertual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wouldn't deny they worked well together, but lately, he's been having trouble concentrating. Quite a bit of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inarticulate

**Author's Note:**

> Articulation: (n) The formation of clear and distinct sound in speech; The action of putting into words an idea or feeling.
> 
> A confession from me: this was not read over at all. Take that as you will.

There was no reason for him to second guess the partnership. It was a fair plan, having Molly work with him while John and Mary adjusted to parenthood. All the times they’d collaborated at Bart’s paired with the day she’d worked with him after he came back to London gave him enough of an idea what it would be like to team up with her, so to speak, on a regular basis. And they did work well together, he had to admit: once she’d found her feet their system quickly became efficient and intuitive, each orbiting the other like a binary system, separate observations falling into their respective slots to present a definite solution to whatever mystery was presented. The simpler cases Sherlock flew through on his own, but Molly was certainly a very smart woman who could hold her own in a debate with the forensics squad.

Something had changed somewhere along the line, though. He couldn’t be sure if it started recently, or if it was years old and he was only just beginning to notice it, but when it came to Molly, he found himself... lingering. He knew he felt something for her when he started keeping track of how long his lips would remain against her cheek when he kissed her goodbye; while he wished it to be a platonic gesture of affection and thanks, he noticed that he would stay close fractionally longer each time, like he was waiting for her to respond, somehow.

His eyes often found their way to her without reason. In the middle of a client’s rambling he would glance to his left, where Molly always situated herself, for no apparent reason other than to see her expression. Most times she was looking at her notepad or at the client, not noticing him watching her, and for that he was quietly grateful.

It happened at crime scenes, too. Whenever there was a body, because occasionally there was, Sherlock would inspect it first before backing away without a word to let Molly in, and he would simply watch her work. It was a fascinating thing to see where her eyes paused, where her hands prodded, and the way she looked completely and unapologetically confident as she presented her information. He didn’t understand why his throat constricted when she stood up and snapped off her gloves, looking to him to fill in the rest as if _he_ was the assistant, but it definitely did something to him, and he couldn’t be sure he entirely disliked it.

What he did dislike was the knowledge that he was, in fact, interested in Molly Hooper. He should have stayed away, and because he hadn’t, he had developed _feelings_ : sentiment, protectiveness, and most concerning of all, attraction. Her intelligence and patience and kindness were what caught his attention at first, and as he allowed time to pass, he had begun to notice her in a different capacity. He enjoyed seeing her dimpled cheeks when she smiled, the shrewd light in her eyes when she worked, the faint scent of vanilla and strawberries she carried in her hair, the posture she assumed when she wore something she knew looked good on her, the subtleness of the curves of her body as he watched her walk away... It should have been more distracting than it was. She was, in her own way, absolutely exquisite.

_So Sherlock Holmes fancies Molly Hooper_ , he would think to himself, trying to feel bitter but finding it incredibly difficult to do so. He’d flown past resenting the fact and dove straight into flat-out longing.

He’d even begun to dream about her. There were times when he hoped he might be graced with the image of her sleeping face close to his when he opened his eyes in the morning. He often woke up feeling cold, wishing he really had been wrapped around her like he had been in his mind. He sometimes, disturbingly, woke himself up moaning her name, and on those occasions he would have preferred a tub full of ice over a cold shower.

He wanted her. He wanted to have her. He wanted her to have him. Completely.

* * *

He had only a moment to be alarmed when he realised he was at her door before he saw his hand come up to rap at the wood loudly. He’d made a point of hiding the spare keys to her building and flat somewhere in 221B and then deleting the memory of stashing them, but apparently that hadn’t stopped him from finding his way to her apartment building and gliding in the front door behind an entering tenant. He considered fleeing, making a run for the lift before she could answer, but before he could make the decision the door was opened.

And there she stood looking utterly perfect in a soft blue sundress, smiling so naturally that it felt like the expression must only be for him. Some internal alarm should normally have rung out a warning by now, but all Sherlock could hear behind the sound of his heart pounding against his ribcage was air. The thoughts that normally floated around his mind in words were long gone, leaving only flashes of movement, directions to consider acting on. He didn’t have anything to hide behind this time; he’d left his heavy coat and suit jacket at home, preferring rolled-up sleeves in the August heat.

Molly gestured for him to enter saying something about central air, letting the door swing shut as he stepped out of his shoes and socks and made his way to drop onto the sofa.

“You know,” Molly opened as she sat down beside him, her tone matching the amused smirk on her face, “just because I’m on holiday doesn’t mean I’ll automatically say no if you ask me to work with you.”

“I don’t see why you find it so hard to believe that I’m on holiday too,” he countered with a smile of his own, sitting back and resting his bare feet on the coffee table that never seemed to fulfill its purpose.

“You’re not on holiday. You’ve got that look like you’re stuck on something. If anything you’re on a really long shift, so tell me what it is and I’ll see if I can help.”

Sherlock looked down at his hands, fingers locked together to stop him wringing them nervously. It had become an obvious tell for Molly although she never mentioned it, and he made an attempt to separate them without it seeming deliberate. Then he looked back to her, patient and expectant.

“It’s not a case,” he found himself saying. Before Molly could respond he jumped to his feet and began pacing her small sitting room, walking around the back of the sofa for more space. “I’m stuck, that’s true, but it’s not a case, and it’s becoming difficult to deal with.” He felt Molly watching him from the other side of the barrier he’d put between them, seeing her thinking face in his peripheral as he kept his eyes on his feet. “I’d say I don’t know why I came here to try to figure it out but I couldn’t exactly go anywhere else, could I?”

“Why not?”

“You’re not anywhere else.”

His feet stopped when Molly let out a sigh, rising from her seat and coming to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.

“Explain?”

He looked down at her silently, his brain trying to sift through all the words in its banks to formulate a sentence that would get the point across the way he wanted. It shouldn’t have been difficult, especially since he seemed to spend half of his life _explaining_ things to people. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave up and turned on his heel, bringing his hands up to ruffle at his hair in frustration, as if an idea might fall out. No words would come, but he knew Molly would wait until he managed to get something out, so he turned back to her, now a few feet away. It wasn’t even in the back of his mind; he knew he could do it in three syllables. His mouth just refused to cooperate....

_Oh. Of course._

A moment after it clicked time seemed to slow down, as if his brain was attempting to give him time to process the decision he’d made. He took the two quick strides back to her, and without allowing himself a moment to change his mind, Sherlock placed his hands on either side of Molly’s face and pressed his lips to hers in a rough kiss.

The shock on her face was clear the moment he broke away and stepped back. As the milliseconds passed, he felt his own expression mirroring hers, a sense of deep regret welling up in his chest in response to the evidently poor decision he’d just made.

“I’m... I...” His feet began to move backwards as he stumbled over what was supposed to be an apology, his eyes only leaving Molly’s when he turned his back to find his shoes so he could put them on and run.

“Don’t you dare,” Molly said sharply, grabbing his arm to pull him back around to face her, making him drop the shoe he was in the process of untying.

He managed to get her name out before she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him down to pull his mouth back to hers.

His surprise was short-lived as she moved her lips against his, still parted from his attempt to speak, and brought her hands up to run through his hair. He had to commend her opportunism as he swallowed back a groan at the feeling of her teeth grazing his bottom lip; it wasn’t something he’d ever let on to, but it didn’t take much to turn his legs to rubber when it came to precisely what Molly was doing. Responding in kind, Sherlock brought one arm up to wind around her waist as his other hand dove into the waves of her hair, and with a confidence he certainly didn’t possess thirty seconds before, he let his feet move forward.

Molly only separated her mouth from his for a moment when her back hit the wall, using the leverage to hoist herself up and wrap her legs around his waist. Sherlock let out an appreciative groan as she pulled him back in by the hair, immediately seeking out his tongue with her own while his hands moved south, brushing against the soft skin of her thighs and the cool fabric of the sundress bunched around her waist. He felt her shiver when he turned his attention to her neck, kissing and nipping his way down as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. His brain buzzed at the sensations he felt all around, the taste of her skin as he marked her neck, her fingers clutching his shirt as she pulled at his shoulders, the whimper that escaped her lips when his fingers met and dipped under the impossibly already-wet cotton of her knickers, the tightness of his hardening cock in his pants, and the complete and terrifying desire he felt for her.

It felt hot enough to burn.

Breaking away to look for the door he wanted, he let Molly nudge him backwards to plant herself on her feet once again. He immediately took the opportunity to lift her sundress up and off, letting it fall to the floor while Molly glided along the wall towards the bedroom. She presented a lovely view of the curves she normally hid beneath loose clothes and as he followed, her flushed chest shamelessly exposed, and he couldn't help but notice she appeared far more confident with almost nothing on than he felt still fully clothed. Maybe he was already too far out of it, but he was even mesmerised by the darkness of her eyes, the tilt of her chin, the sly smile on her lips. It wasn’t the Molly he recognised from Bart’s; she held all the power over him now, and damn it if he loved it.

Like the scene of a dream skipping forward, he soon found himself being herded against the bedroom door and stripped of his clothing with surprising speed. He watched with interest while Molly’s deft hands removed his layers, feeling his last ounce of self-consciousness fly away when she pushed his trousers and pants down together and brought her small, soft hand to his throbbing prick. His head fell back against the door as she stoked him, his eyes losing focus completely when he felt her lips on his collarbone. She let out a sigh as he brought his hands to her hips and hooked his thumbs over the waistband of her knickers, his fingers softly pressing against her skin as he pulled the fabric past her thighs and let it drop at her feet.

Keeping one hand firmly on the small of her back, he brought the other one up to her face, giving her enough of a prompt to step back so that he could take her mouth again. Kissing her desperately and holding her tightly, their feet moved blindly until they fell together onto her bed. In moments he found himself on his back with her above him, their frenzied kiss unbroken as he wrapped his arm fully around her waist and pulled her warm body closer, her fingers pulling at his hair once again and her hip rubbing against his erection in a lovely way. He groaned when Molly pulled away, smiling almost shyly in their extreme proximity, her nose centimetres from his.

“I need to ask,” she whispered.

“Clean,” Sherlock said immediately, a flicker of sense lighting up the thinking part of his brain for a moment.

“Me too. And I’m on birth control. Just, I don’t actually have any, um... condoms. Anymore.” Her already-pink cheeks flushed deeper. “We don’t have to, I mean, I don’t mind if you—”

He pushed his hips upwards, effectively silencing her in response. Her apprehension dissolved into a grin, one which he couldn’t help but return, as she situated herself, slowly moving her hips back and forth over his, teasing his shamelessly leaking cock against her folds. It was impossible not to notice the angle she moved at brought her clit down directly on him too, and he felt her wetness building quickly as her eyes fluttered closed and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Doesn’t take much, does it?” he growled, the voice in his head taking over his vocal cords when the thought made itself clear. He didn’t expect to care at all, but considering previously learned information that stated it took much more effort for a woman to get wet so quickly, his curiosity about her sensitivity won over. He might have to follow through on that point in the near future. Perhaps with his mouth....

Molly’s cheeks turned an unfamiliar shade of red as she paused in her movements and shook her head. “Is it weird?”

He surprised himself by letting out a short laugh. _Weird is a condition of our existence_ , he thought, letting his hands roam down and up her thighs as she started to move again, taking his time bringing them up to her waist. She sat up with a small smile and took him in hand, positioning his tip at her entrance and ever so slowly taking him in, breath held and eyes shut.

It took all his willpower to keep his eyes on her face, the sensation of her cunt around his cock making his brain want to shut down completely. Everything he’d built up, every wall he’d put up to be Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective came crashing down as if they’d been made of sand, and all that remained was a very human man revelling in the feeling of this very human woman. And it felt marvellous.

She leaned forward, her hands running up his chest to rest at his shoulders, and began to move her hips languidly, pulling a curse from his lips as he let himself move with her, meeting her movements so perfectly that it felt like a dance. He brought her closer, feeling her breasts brush against his chest as they shared the same air, soft moans coming from her mouth and strings of words tumbling from his. Her skin was hot against his, soft, supple, wanting to be touched, and he let his hands run up her back as she rode him with earnest, mattress squeaking and headboard knocking against the wall. He pushed himself up the last inch to capture her lips, her name flying out in gasps when they parted for air as if it was the only thing he knew, and in return he heard his own name alongside whispered words of _yes_ and _more_ and _closer_.

He sensed his peak nearing, the tightening seeming to tug at his entire body with every snap of skin as his and Molly’s hips came together. It didn’t take long before she came with a sob, her inner muscles contracting around him, pulling him over the edge with her. The tension in his core snapped like rubber and he came hard, emptying himself with a strangled moan. His orgasm flooded his entire body creating a white-hot explosion inside his brain, sending all thought out the window in one glorious moment of absolute silence. All too soon he found himself resurfacing, the pieces falling back into place like papers floating to the ground, but feeling spent in the best way. For the first time in ages he felt relaxed, completely loose and content, and he wrapped his arms around Molly as she collapsed against him, pressing a kiss to her temple as they came down from their high with deep breaths and pounding hearts. His softening cock slipped out of her after a few quiet minutes and neither of them made a move to separate from the other, Molly’s hands moving over his shoulders and down his arms, Sherlock’s hands caressing her back. It was as if they had silently agreed that they were pleased to stay as they were.

The way they were.

“Molly,” Sherlock murmured, trying to see her face without moving. She lifted her head, her eyes positively sparkling as she returned his gaze. Knowing that his next words were more than likely a pillow talk faux-pas, it made him uneasy. “I don’t want this to change anything in us working together.”

“No,” she said, her expression matching the lack of amusement in her tone. “Of course not. Just wanted to get me out of your system. That’s fine.”

“What? No! I—” He stopped when her lips curled up into a smirk, realising he’d just been had. He smiled back, bringing his hands up to her cheeks and lifting his head to kiss her. “Am I really that obvious?”

He felt her smile as she hummed against his lips. “Unfortunately, you are. But I’d still like it if you used your words.”

“My words.” He thought for a moment, trying to find a way to phrase it. Obviously there was no pretending or going back of any kind, so the direct approach seemed best. “Molly Hooper, I have feelings for you. Intense ones. Of the emotional and the... physical... kind.”

“And?”

“And... I’ve grown accustomed to your face.”

Molly let out a small laugh at the lacklustre confession and went back to resting her head on his chest. “I suppose that will do. I love you too.”

Even though she couldn’t see, Sherlock smiled, the crooked grin feeling more natural than ever.

“I’m glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember not too long ago when I said I owed you? I remembered.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and thank you for comments and kudos.


End file.
